Through A Glass, Darkly
by ShadowSpires
Summary: A quiet family moment, in the midst of the end of the world. Part of the Deja Vu!Verse. Set between 'Who Else To Hold As The World Falls Down,' and 'Deja Vu."


Cold air ghosted through the cracks around the windows of the old, ramshackle apartment. Their current base in Gotham had seen better days, though it was better than some. It still had all it's windows for one, and had a decent bed with quite a few blankets. Most of which Dick was currently snuggled up under. The fingers of cold air brushed against his face, though, and he shivered, tucking the small bits of exposed skin against Jason's neck. Warm arms squeezed tighter around him in response even while Jason grunted, and goosed him teasingly for pressing cold skin to warm.

It was a cold, cloudless night; though thankfully it was relatively still. The snippets of breeze that still made it through the cracks in windows and walls were scented with frost, deadening any other smells. The world was quiet. heart-rendingly, mind-breakingly quiet. This apartment was situated in what had once been a central part of Gotham. Even in the latest hours of the night, it should never have been this quiet. Phantom sounds started to creep at the edges of Dick's awareness. Blaring horns and traffic sounds. The chatter of the city. Children's laughter. Things he knew could not be.

He buried his face tighter into Jason's neck, pressing an ear in hard to hear the swoosh, swoosh of blood through his veins and the rush of his breath. Anything real to drown out those things he knew were not.

It felt like there was no sound in the world. Like nothing was real but Jason, firm and warm under his hands, loud in his ears, and gunpowder/leather/oil filling his nose.

Alone. All alone.

At least mostly.

Dick craned his head around to took over his shoulder at the battered table in the corner of the room. Tim and Damian sat across from each other on the rickety chairs, cleaning their various supplies and talking softly. Now that he was focusing on them, the quiet murmur of their conversation helped to ground him in the here and now.

His heart swelled when Tim cracked a small smirk at something Damian said. He was so happy his littlest brothers were getting along so well, even if it had taken the end of the world to see it. They really were very similar in a lot of ways. It had always made him sad that they couldn't see that. Though, in a way they acted more like true brothers than all the rest of them; fighting for their fathers attention, trying to one-up one another, teasing mercilessly and ruthlessly but trying to maim anyone else who tried the same.

"Dick…"

There was something in Jason's tone. Low and warning, and almost sad. But that didn't make sense. Why should he be sad that their brothers were getting along?

"I know, I know," Dick grumbled, shifting to settle himself more firmly against Jason, making sure there would be enough space for the other two when they wanted to come lay down. Tim and Dick usually ended up in the middle, bracketed by the other two, except on the nights it was necessary to all pile on Jason, or Damian, to make sure their dreams were not too haunted. He closed his eyes and breathed deep Jason's scent, settling in to sleep. He'd get his baby-brother cuddles when the other joined them. He'd sleep in the mean time, though. Knowing those two, they could be up for hours yet. "They're big boys; they'll come to bed when they want to. That doesn't mean I won't miss them while they're not here."

A sound tore itself out of Jason's throat. Dick peered up at him, concern tugging at sleep-fogging eyes. Something in Jason's expression was sharp and painful, before he controlled it ruthlessly. Dick frowned. What could that have been.

"I miss you too," Dick said tentatively, trying to fix whatever it was that had caused Jason to look that way. "When you're not there."

Jason looked past Dick to the piles of supplies on the table, stacked a little haphazardly. At the cleaning kit laid out and ready to use.

At the empty chairs.

At the space on Dick's side of the bed that would never be filled again.

His ears rang with the oppressive silence, not even a whisper of sound coming from beyond the bed.

Jason's throat closed and his eyes grew hot. He closed them before the room could grow blurry with tears.

There was no one there. Only echos and memories.

He clutched Dick tighter, and prayed to anyone who would listen like he had never prayed for anything - not even for the Joker to stop. He prayed that Dick would fall first to the madness the had eclipsed the world. The the Grayson wouldn't find himself, once again, the only survivor of his family.

That Jason wouldn't die and leave his broken brother alone with the shattered shards of memories and wistful dreams.


End file.
